She drops low behind the glass case, mouth wrapping his shaft in the cluttered pawn shop glow — neon signs flickering, random dudes wandering past oblivious. Brunette locks eyes upward, throat bulging as she takes it balls-deep, gagging softly amid shelves of junk. He grips her hair, pumps steady; she pulls back gasping, strings of saliva connecting lips to tip. Counter digs into her knees. Switches to stroking fast, tongue flicking head until ropes hit her chin — messy finish in broad daylight.